


Pour, Rinse, Repeat

by empyrean



Category: Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empyrean/pseuds/empyrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, five ways Carla Langer and Sarah Jane Smith didn’t have tea – and one way they did. Carla watches Clyde grow up, and tries to have a cuppa with the person she reckons is responsible. Without much success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour, Rinse, Repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paranoidangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoidangel/gifts).



> Because Clyde always struck me as having been a naughty kid before meeting up with the Smiths. And Carla is a Mama, no matter what.
> 
> And the Eleventh Doctor is just win, I wanted to put Rory and Amy in, put it got silly.

Pour, Rinse, Repeat  
Or, five ways Carla Langer and Sarah Jane Smith didn’t have tea – and one way they did

1.  
It’s a few months after they moved to Ealing, a few weeks after Clyde starts running around with Luke that Carla finally gets around to speaking to Sarah Jane. She is so, so glad, ridiculously so. Luke’s a nice kid – better than the type every mother worries that their children will fall in with. And the type she had been certain Clyde would end up with – her angry, directionless little boy. Angry at his father – angry at her – angry at himself for being angry.

She remembers when he was a baby and she would never be able to resist peeking in on him at night. This little creature that she had brought into the world, now having dreams and nightmares of his own. The same little thing now with his shoulders bending under a weight they were never meant to carry. She could _kill_ Paul. So when he makes friends with the boy over the road she’s determined that it will stick – her Clyde is too wonderful to be alone.

A woman – Luke’s mother, she guesses – answers the door, giving her a smile that you give to people you know you know but for the life of you can’t recall their names. ‘Hi, I’m Carla. Clyde’s mum.’

‘Oh, of course.’ Her face lights into a true smile, ‘Sarah Jane, Luke’s-- well, I guess you already know that.’ A pause. ‘Is something wrong with Clyde?’

‘No, just thought I’d introduce myself, our boys being friends and all.’

‘I was relieved, Luke’s--’ She pauses again, and then decides on ‘Clyde is a good boy.’

And just like that, Sarah Jane Smith could insult her, her life, everything else she has ever done, and Carla would love her. Just for that.  
‘Just wanted to ask if you’d like a cuppa. If you’re not too busy.’

‘I’d love-’ There’s this horrendous screeching noise, and Sarah Jane’s head just about snaps upwards. ‘Sorry Carla, that’s my-- I have to answer that. Some other time?’

‘Course. That’s one noisy phone you’ve got.’

Sarah Jane gives this tight little smile, teeth clenched. ‘Keeps me on my toes. Speak to you later!’

The door just about slams shut, and Carla can hear feet bolting up the stairs from outside. Lovely woman. Bit odd though.

2.

She’s almost across the road again when she sees Sarah Jane, Clyde and that Maria girl tearing down the street. God, if she could still run in boots like that...

‘Clyde!’

‘Be back later, Mum! Don’t wait up!’

‘Carla Langer waits up for no man, you know that!’ They’re almost at the corner, he’s shouting something about co-ordinates and not much time, maybe it’s schoolwork. Nice of Sarah to help them with it. ‘Have fun, love!’

He scowls at her, but waves anyway.

She has her cup of tea anyway, watches Corrie. She’s down to the dregs by the time Clyde skips in, grinning from ear to ear and refusing to tell her why. Was the schoolwork that good? She’s pleased he’s actually on top of his work, but Clyde’s clothes go in the washing smelling of something that refuses to come out. God, has he been running around a tip again?

She really needs to talk to Sarah Jane. Lovely woman. _Very_ bit odd.

3.

She isn’t in – at least, Carla doesn’t think so, but there are strange noises coming from the attic. Screaming and screeching like Halloween scare music.

When Clyde turns up later, looking like a lost little boy, like Paul had just taken off again and he just couldn’t get why, some instinct makes her cuddle him to her, a hand pressed against the top of his head, warm. She wants to shake him and tell him to never set foot in 13 Bannerman Road again. He doesn’t fuss at all, doesn’t roll his eyes or go _Mum_ in that way that makes her want to hug him harder and never let him grow up. He just leans against her, limp and trusting as a newborn baby.

He won’t explain to her why, just shrugs and says ‘tired’.

It’s silly – stupid, even – but it takes her months to ask Sarah Jane to tea again.

4.

The next time she comes round, there’s another person there. Luke lets her in, and Clyde and the girl – Rain? Lani? – are in the living room, watching the two of them like it’s centre court at Wimbledon. Sarah Jane looks half-angry, half-something. Like she wants to slap him silly then hug him until she can make herself let go. Carla’s been _there_ before.

Except this bloke can’t be any older than, what, 26, 27? And he has this grin that reminds her of when a three year old Clyde had discovered paint for the first time. Sarah Jane doesn’t strike her as the type for younger men.

‘Carla, an old friend of mine.’

‘Not that old!’ He complains, turning away from Clyde and their discussion on the relative merits of Star Wars. Clyde looks like he’s found true love.

‘Older than he looks.’ Sarah Jane overrides, eyeing the pair of them like naughty children. Carla suddenly feels like she has walked into another person’s family gathering. Clyde scuttles off to the kitchen with Luke and the girl he’s been making cow eyes at the last five minutes – Rani, it turns out. She bites down the urge to coo and pinch his cheeks. Young love. He won’t appreciate it, cool Clyde Langer. ‘Doctor, Carla Langer.’ A blank look. ‘ _Clyde_.’

‘Aha! Clyde’s mum. Brilliant boy. World-saving.’ Sarah Jane does something to his foot underneath the table. ‘Changing, even.’

It should sound sarcastic, something like that. But the guy – ‘Doctor’, what kind of name is that? – has the face-splitting grin that you just have to smile back at. And Carla feels towards him like she did towards Sarah Jane, that first time. Carla has been waiting a lifetime for someone to look right at Clyde, not over or under or through. To look at Clyde and see _Clyde_.

The Doctor travels a lot, she gets that much from the awkward, stilting ‘there is someone else in the room’ conversation, and might not be back for a while. Their goodbye is odd, charged with the unsaid. Carla excuses herself. Neither notices.

5.

Luke has gone off to uni the next time she tries to have tea with Sarah Jane. She figures she might need it, empty house, empty nest – though she thinks Sarah Jane isn’t really much of the nesting type.

Clyde answers the door.

‘Mum!’

‘Just what are you doing here, young man?’

‘Er.’ He blinks, frowns, opens his mouth to say something and finally says, mumbling and embarrassed, ‘Rani and Sarah Jane are helping me with chemistry.’

And it’s true – there are papers just about everywhere, and she can see Clyde’s scribbles over most of them. His drawings are getting better and better, clear strokes and dark lines, but she can think of better places for them than his textbooks. Clyde’s been different ever since he first started running with Luke Smith. Not worse, probably even better. Just _different_. Always laughing at things she doesn’t get and refusing to answer questions, he’s like the bloody Little Prince.

He’s growing up.

When he gets sent to put the kettle on, she grabs the opportunity and grills Rani while trying not to let on that is what she’s doing. She doesn’t know if she’s Clyde’s type, and it makes her shiver to think of her little boy having a type of girl he likes anyway, but Carla reckons she likes Rani Chandra. She’s sassy, and smart, and snaps back at Clyde so quickly it must have been practiced except it couldn’t have been. Though she’s certain that her father is the Mr. Chandra that Clyde spends half his time avoiding.

She’s missing a lot of his life. Clyde has grown quick and clever and talented just like he was always meant to and there’s a _girl_. She wonders if everyone gets it, this knowledge that their child is surpassing them in every way possible and being so, so happy about it. It doesn’t matter. She has it now.

She does wonder, though, what they are doing around Sarah Jane’s house. Empty nest syndrome is all well and good, but--  
The answer walks through the door. And there’s no other way to describe it than the three of them light up at the sight of each other. Clyde, Rani and Luke. Sarah Jane and Rani clamp him between them, a teenage boy looking completely baffled and completely delighted. Clyde jumps up and they go through an awkward little dance of ‘I want to hug you but I am a man’ (oh, boys) and they end up hugging anyway. Just like always.

‘Good evening, Mrs Langer.’

‘It’s _Carla_.’

Just like always.

Carla watches Sarah Jane watch them with a completely satisfied look – like they’re a job well done, and she’s happy to sit back and see them run on without her. Carla looks to where she does, and sees.

Clyde shows Luke his drawings, talks about composition and light and colour.

Luke corrects Clyde’s homework, doesn’t say the answers, just explains, structure and bonding and polarity.

Rani reads both of them extracts from her English presentation and laughs as they re-enact Macbeth with straws for knives. Explaining and asking and circular conversations that go nowhere but everywhere at the same time.

She had been a little far off the mark. It’s not Clyde, Rani and Luke. It’s ClydeRaniLuke, a dog pile of the nearly-adults and their things shared.

They’re satellites, orbiting around each other.

In the end, they stay late. And the tea never gets made.

+1

It takes years.

But it happens, eventually. The kids are off having their own adventures, learning and loving and living. The best that they can.  
Carla has even enough time now for a real pot of tea. She puts in the leaves, pours the water, replaces the lid and watches the steam curl up from the spout. Quiet and steady, never doing anything quicker than it has to.

She sets the pot down, two cups, sugar, milk. She takes her own seat and looks across the table.

‘So, Carla.’ Sarah Jane gives her the same smile as when they first met. Cheerful and friendly and just a little bit _odd_. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

Carla smiles back, curls her hand around her cup, feels the warmth seep into her skin. And begins.


End file.
